


we were in screaming color

by nightbloods



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Gen, prompt drabbles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-24 12:33:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2581583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightbloods/pseuds/nightbloods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of unrelated Olicity prompt drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from hassana: Oliver and Felicity watch TASM2 and notice the similarities between themselves, and Peter and Gwen.
> 
> I've only watched this movie once since it was in theaters. It hurt too much. As a result, references to the film are pretty vague since I don't remember details like lines of dialogue, therefore a little prior knowledge may be necessary, but you should be fine if you haven't seen the movie. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Arrow, Spider-Man or any characters affiliated. I do however, have a father that's probably somewhere wincing at me for throwing DC and Marvel universes together.

“Oliver?”

Truth be told, he’s not entirely sure why he’s standing outside Felicity’s door. All he knows is that it’s Sunday, he had nothing to do and Thea had been chiding him for never going out to do anything or having friends. So he’d grabbed the first movie from the stack of DVDs on the entertainment center and walked out the door with no particular destination in mind.

He ended up at the front door of Felicity’s townhouse because somehow, his autopilot always seemed to lead him to her.

Oliver gives her a bashful look and holds up the DVD case as his own form of an olive branch. “Think you’re up for a movie with your favorite ex-billionaire?”

He expects her to turn him down, knows she has every reason to, but if he’s learned anything these past years it’s that she never stops defying his expectations. He grins like the careless fool she brings out of him when she gives him a hesitant smile, and opens the door a little wider to let him in.

“Who ever said you’re my favorite?” Felicity teases, and the playful sparkle in her eyes makes his heart flutter just a little (a lot). The easy rapport is there, a little rusty from abandonment over the past weeks, but it’s there and the vice around his heart loosens as the casual comfort of it all washes over him.

She ushers him in, the familiar bright space welcoming him. They move around one another easily, like navigating the same space is still second nature to both of them despite the awkward dance of avoidance they’ve been doing these past weeks. Oliver knows his way around her place, drops onto the couch like he’d done a thousand times over the past summer. Felicity follows suit, moves a stack of files onto the coffee table and snatches his peace offering from his hands.

“Spider-Man 2?” She quirks an eyebrow at him, and Oliver leans over the glance at the title on the case.

“I may have borrowed it from Thea’s movie collection.”

“The Andrew Garfield version. Your sister has good taste.” Felicity says, in that voice she uses when she’s talking tech or arguing with Roy over his choice of cellphone; the voice that lets Oliver know she knows what she’s talking about and is not going to be swayed in her opinion.

Oliver shrugs, “Never saw the first one,” and Felicity scoffs, moving to place the DVD in the player and snagging the remote on her way back. He can’t help but notice that she settles just a little closer to him than she was, then tucks her feet under her and curls into the cushion.

The familiarity is nice, and it doesn’t surprise him that images of the past summer are at the forefront of his mind: the two of them on the same couch, passing a carton of take-out between themselves, calm nights with her leaned against his side while an old sitcom plays on the tv, her toes tucked under his thighs and files spread all over the room to prepare for meetings with investors, her head cushioned against his chest on that one night she’d been too tired to drive herself home and they both crashed on her couch. They’re nice memories, and Oliver pushes away the ache when he remembers how he screwed it all up.

Twenty minutes into the movie and he starts to think maybe this wasn’t the best choice of film. Felicity shifts in her seat, looks at her nails and the wall and a throw pillow and anywhere but the scene playing out on screen. It doesn’t take much imagination for Oliver to figure out why.

It’s too familiar an argument, hits too close to home for the both of them.

“Felicity, I-“

She shakes her head, defiant and effectively silences anything he was about to say. “No, Oliver. I get it. We don’t need to talk about it.”

He nods, and turns back to the TV even though he’s entirely sure _nothing_ is okay, but he’ll let her have this; let her make the decision not to talk about it if that’s what she wants. He’s made so many choices for the both of them, he can let her call the shots here.

It’s quiet between them for a while, the only sound in the room is the teary actress delivering her monologue, all blonde hair and sad eyes, reminding him too much of another conversation that ended with another blonde walking away.

It’s Oliver that breaks the silence eventually, after Gwen leaves and Peter is left looking broken on sidewalk. “You know, it makes a lot less sense when they say it like that,” he’s going for light and teasing, but the words catch in his throat and fall between them, weighted and clouding the air.

Felicity shakes her head again, looks anywhere but at him, “Yeah, it doesn’t always make a whole lot of sense the way you said it either.” Her voice comes out small and quiet, like she’s not sure if she really wants the words to make the trip to his ears. They do, and they hit Oliver with a force that nearly knocks the wind out of him. It leaves him breathless and searching for words of his own but coming up empty.

He opens his mouth once, twice, but nothing comes out. She has a way of doing that; leaving him stumbling on his own feet and grasping for something to hold onto when she’s managed to turn his world upside down with a few words and a swish of her ponytail.

His hand reaches out for her, halts halfway and lands between them on the couch cushion instead. Part of him wishes she’d look at him, but another part knows that if she did, any resolve he’s managed to hold onto would crumble.

“I’m sorry, Felicity.” He says, and the words are ones he’s said a million times and always meant when it came to her.

“I know,” her voice catches, muffled by the hand that hides her face from view. “I know you are, Oliver, but being sorry isn’t always enough.”

He reaches for her again and his fingers find their destination on her shoulder this time. It hurts more than anything she could’ve said when she shrugs away from his touch.

Eventually, they turn back to the movie. Oliver stares determinedly at the screen the entire time, but every time Gwen comes on screen, it’s another blonde that he sees.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from felicitysmoak-addict: Felicity meets Oliver in a frat party, he is kinda drunk and the cops swarm into the frat house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first time I've written AU. Ever. And probably the most dialogue in anything I've ever written. Enjoy!

Felicity had never been much for parties. Growing up in Vegas, surrounded by the noise and din of casinos and clubs, she had always craved the quiet moments more than the loud ones. The time she spent locked in her bedroom with a computer or curled in the living room chair with a book; those were her idea of fun.

The same was true as she moved through life and made it to college. The lights and rush of Starling City were just fine from her dorm window, even beautiful sometimes, but in the midst of it all, it was a bit overwhelming. 

Suffice to say, there was a list places she’d rather be than pushing through the raging crowd in the middle of a fraternity party at its hectic peak. 

Strangers bumped and shoved against her and her eyes scan the room as she looked for any sign of her roommate’s red hair. The girl had disappeared to get drinks fifteen minutes ago, and Felicity still couldn’t spot her. 

Heading in the direction she’d seen her roommate go last, she escaped into the small kitchen. A few people were mulling about, but it was mostly quiet and she slumped against the counter. Her hand came up to rub at her temples in an attempt to offset the inevitable headache from the pounding bass of the music. 

It was the tap on her shoulder that made her finally open her eyes several minutes later. 

“Sorry, I’ll get out of the kitchen,” she said as she came out of her daze and turned around to face whatever partygoer decided to interrupt her moment of peace. 

“No, I just need,“ A hand reached toward her and snatched up a bottle opener she hadn’t realized was under her bag, “this.”

Felicity appraised the stranger, taller than her even with some of her highest heels helping out. He was vaguely familiar, bright blue eyes and a smile that dripped charm and knew it, but she couldn’t place him. 

“Oh, sorry,” she muttered halfheartedly, eyes already looking past him in hopes that she may catch sight of the redhead she’d been looking for to begin with. No luck. 

“It’s no problem.” The stranger said and flashed his smile at her and watched her like he expected her to melt in front of him. He smelled like alcohol. 

She hummed and rested herself against the counter again, dropped her purse by her feet and prepared to wait out the next wave of the party until she could leave. She expected her new acquaintance to move along, get back to the party, but he had other ideas, apparently. Before Felicity could even contemplate digging around in her bag for her phone to see if her roommate would answer if she called, his tall frame had joined hers against the kitchen counter. 

“So, why so down?” He asked, taking her by surprise, even if she wasn’t sure what exactly she had expected. 

“What?”

Tall, Blonde and Confident took sip of his drink, “Well, you’re at one of the biggest parties of the year, and you’re hiding in the kitchen.” He said matter-of-factly. 

Felicity turned to face him again, pinning him with a steely gaze that made up for the fact that she was several inches shorter than him. “I’m not hiding.”

 

He smiled, and it made her want to smack him. “Call it what you will.”   
She rolled her eyes at his idiotic smirk, waving him off as a dismissal, but he stayed where he was. 

“Come on, what is it?” His expression sobered a little and he nudged her leg with his knee. 

“I don’t even know you,” she said, and scanned the room one more time. 

“Oliver,” he stuck his hand out, and she couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her at the formal gesture. “There we go! She smiles!” he said, letting loose a beaming grin that seemed far more genuine than the one he’d tried on her a few minutes before.   
It takes Felicity a moment to school her expression, but once she trusts herself to speak again she fixed him with a slightly softer look and nods, ignoring his invitation for a handshake. “Nice to meet you, Oliver.”

“And what should I call you?” The guy, Oliver, gives her a puppy dog look that made her laugh again, much to his amusement.   
“Felicity,” she said after a beat, and made no effort to wipe the smile from her lips this time. 

“Fe-li-ci-ty,” he drew her name out, testing it out like it was his first word in a new language. 

She nodded for lack of anything better to do, “It means happiness, or something.”

Oliver looks her over with a serious expression and tips his beer toward her. “It fits you,” he said, and the words come out weighted with meaning even though they hardly know one another and the comment really shouldn’t mean anything at all. 

Felicity blushed, damn her. “Thank you,” she muttered lamely, and suddenly became very aware of the lack of space between their bodies. She stepped back in an attempt to add a few more inches to the gap, but her heel caught on the strap of her bag nothing could stop the yelp that exploded from her mouth as she tumbled backwards. 

She fully expected to hit the cold tile floor, but then there were hands around her waist and she was set upright again.

Oliver stood over her, his blue eyes searched her face for what exactly, Felicity wasn’t really sure. 

His hands were still on her waist as she took a few steadying breaths, his broad chest still just a fraction of an inch from hers with every inhale and she would never be entirely sure if she leaned in first or if it was him. 

“Ollie!” A brunette tore through the kitchen, successfully breaking them from whatever spell they seemed to be under and Oliver’s arms slid away from her hips as they withdrew awkwardly. 

“What is it, Laurel?” Oliver said in an exasperated tone, all but rolling his eyes at the girl that had burst in. Felicity didn’t miss the flare that was thrown her way by the other woman. 

“The cops are here, we’ve gotta go!”

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt me in the comments, or on my tumblr or twitter under the same username :)


End file.
